


better me than you

by seameetsearth



Series: two dumbasses slowly figure out they're in love [4]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Near Death Experiences, Other, it's okay they get better, there is a stab wound but it's not terribly gory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seameetsearth/pseuds/seameetsearth
Summary: Billie takes a blow meant for Mason. He isn't keen on it.
Relationships: Nonbinary Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Series: two dumbasses slowly figure out they're in love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993708
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	better me than you

_Dammit, dammit, dammit!_

Mason is busy with three other Trappers, his back turned; even if he can hear the one coming up behind him, he can't do anything about it without leaving himself wide open. Dammit, Billie has to do something, _think_ —

The Trapper turns the knife in her hand, and as the light glints off the blade, they see the ominous shine of a deep red liquid coating it.

DMB.

No time then.

They move with a speed they wouldn't have thought themself capable of, abandoning their own fight as they lunge for the assailant. She doesn't seem to expect them to change direction so quickly, her eyes wide as they crash into her and send them both tumbling. Her head hits the floor with a heavy thud just as Billie lands on their elbow the wrong way. Groaning, they quickly roll to pin her down with one arm while reaching for their stun gun with the other; but the Trapper recovers faster, and just before she's zapped, they see her arm jab out towards their midsection.

They only have a split second to consider how, oddly enough, being stabbed doesn't seem to feel like much at all — they know they saw the knife go in their abdomen, a bit off-center, but there's no pain? To be fair, this is the first time they've been stabbed, maybe that's normal — before their stun gun reaches its target. The Trapper seizes as the volts course through her body, and as her arm spasms, her hand unconsciously grips the blade tighter and forcefully rips it through Billie's side, tearing through their flesh in a jagged, bloody line.

_That_ hurts much, much more.

The woman collapses, unconscious but no worse for wear, while Billie grits their teeth as they rise to their feet, one hand immediately applying pressure to try to stem the bleeding as best they can. The damn knife finally seems to have fallen from her hand, laying just next to her still body, and they clumsily maneuver it with their foot to hide it underneath her. No need to tempt any other assholes into thinking it somehow might still have enough DMB on it to be effective against a vampire.

At that thought, they look to check on Mason, and they're dumbstruck.

He's like a force of nature. Any restraint he had been showing earlier in the fight has been thrown aside; his face is twisted in a snarl as he kicks one Trapper in the knee, and when they fall to the ground, he brings his own knee up to crack into their jaw, and Billie thinks they can hear something break. Mason turns immediately, grabbing another by the shirt and throwing the man into the brick wall with such force that Billie has to wince; yes, there are _definitely_ broken bones.

They take a step towards him — to help him, or stop him, they don't know — but either way, their legs seem to have decided they don't want to work anymore. They stumble and just barely make their way to the wall, their breath coming shorter and shorter with each attempt at a small, trembling step, before colliding against it and sliding to the floor with a groan.

They try to keep an eye on Mason, but their vision is getting blurry. It's a shame, it's always nice watching him. Even just walking from one room to another, he always moves with such a languid kind of purpose. It's mesmerizing. Not that they would ever tell him that. Or maybe they should? Is that the kind of thing you can tell someone you're having casual relations with? Hm.

Fuzzy as their sight is, they can still see that when Mason finishes up with the Trappers, he doesn't hesitate to turn towards them. In a flash, he's crouching next to them, and they can finally see his face properly; his eyes are wild — scanning their face with a kind of terror they think they've never seen before, his lips pressed so tightly that they've lost all color, and that was a shame, too, he really had a very nice mouth, one more thing they maybe should tell him? — locking on to where their hand is still doing what it can to keep their blood where it's supposed to be. 

"Fuck," he whispers.

They take a breath to say something, to reassure him, but it doesn't come as deeply as it should and brings on another wave of pain and nausea, so they settle for a quiet hum instead.

"What the hell were you thinking, sweetheart?" He's still quiet, and his hands are hovering over theirs, like he's unsure if his touch will make it worse, somehow. _What an idiot_ , the thought comes, unbidden. There's never been a time his touch has hurt them. "You trying to get yourself killed?"

"She was... coming at you," Billie gasps, adjusting their hands over the wound. They can't bring themself to look at it, but they can feel that the gash tearing their side open is long and blood-sticky, now, and it _hurts_ \- the adrenaline is cooling off, and with its absence, the pain is free to fully take its place, bringing with it a spinning dizziness and stars behind their eyelids. "DMB on the knife. No time to think."

He scoffs, even as he gently moves their hands to examine the wound for himself. "So what, your best plan was to get your own ass kicked first?" Whatever he sees, he doesn't like; his face twitches like he's going to snarl but thinks better of it, and he places their hands back over the cut and holds them firmly in place.

It's hard to answer when they can't take a full breath. Each time they try, they just get a new bout of pain shooting through their body. Still, it's Mason. They have to try. "Better me... than you."

Mason makes a face at that, and... it's not a face Billie has seen him make before. It's angry, for sure, but it's not like his 'Felix just slammed on the car horn as Mason walked by' face, which is admittedly an extremely murderous variation on the standard. It's a face that belies a truly deep, intrinsic kind of fury, a response to something that has offended some core tenet of his being, but... they don't understand where it's coming from.

He looks like he's going to say something, opens his mouth to do it, but the only thing that comes out is a low, rumbling growl. His hands, still covering their own, are trembling, and they can't tell why; they don't _understand_ and it's maddening, but their mind is too foggy, their thoughts getting lost as they travel between synapses.

The little pressure they're able to put on the wound isn't doing much to staunch the flow of blood escaping between their fingers with every breath, and they let their head hit the wall behind them in frustration. "Mason, I can't - I need to... stop the bleeding."

They don't see him, their eyes squeezed shut as they are, but they finally hear his voice again, low and close.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Wish I knew," they chuckle humorlessly. A fresh round of pain bursts from the wound, and they clench their teeth to try to reign in the scream that threatens to tear out their throat, almost doubling over from the sheer force of it. It's blinding, sending a searing heat through every nerve ending, and they're unsure through the haze clouding their mind how they manage to stay upright - but when they finally come back to, they're leaning against Mason's chest, that heady scent of sandalwood enveloping them as his arm wraps around their shoulders, pulling them in close.

_Sandalwood, but no smoke_ , they think, the words moving like syrup through their head. Odd, that they almost miss the smell of tobacco now.

They can feel vibrations reverberating through Mason's chest as he says something to... someone? Hopefully it isn't them; they can't make out the words. But he sounds upset, frantic? It's so damn hard to think when they're so sleepy. Mason is pulling away, now, and that's not good, he was so warm, but he's lowering them to the floor, and they can see his shoulder holding his phone to his ear, a tinny little voice coming through it, and he looks so focused on whatever they're saying -

\- and another burst of pain courses through them as Mason presses his hands harder against the wound, breaking through their drowsiness and ripping another scream from them. He's speaking again, now, and they can make out some of it, just barely, underneath their own cries and whimpers filling the air.

"— No, it's only been a few —" "— I _don't know_ , fuck, I can't take my hands off to check —" "— I've got you, sweetheart, I'm right here —" "— eyes open, Billie, come on, not much longer, _fuck_ , they've gotta be here soon —"

They do their best to keep their eyes open, and they don't know how well they succeed at that, given the rising panic in Mason's voice, but eventually they can see someone else's face next to his, a stranger, and Mason leaves their field of vision, _damn shame_ , but they can feel his hand wrapped around theirs, and it stays there even as the stranger moves them, and it stays as their eyes fall closed, and it stays as they drift off to sleep.

* * *

When they come to, Mason is there.

He's laying halfway over the hospital bed from his chair, his head buried in his arms, one hand over their wrist, thumb slowly moving back and forth over the pale skin; he can feel when their pulse picks up, announcing that they're awake long before they even open their eyes, but he keeps his head down.

He can't look at them.

If he looks at them, everything he felt will come rushing back.

The fear that spiked when he could smell their blood spilling onto the floor.

The anger and terror that he had turned back on the Trappers he fought, tearing through them as quickly as possible to get to their side.

The horror at seeing just how badly they were hurt, the blood seeping out from under his hands, and not knowing how to fix it, if he even could.

The cold fury at hearing them say, _"Better me than you."_

It was too much. It had made his breath stop and his hands shake, something taking hold of his heart and gripping tight, putting such constraint on his chest that he couldn't speak, the words strangled in his throat as they tried to escape.

If he looked at them, it would all come back. So he doesn't.

He keeps his head down, and he holds on to them, and the only thing he lets himself feel is the immense relief that they're _alive_.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr under the same name if you ever want someone to cry to about dumb vampires 😔


End file.
